Sundays are always good days for me. The day that our Soldier left, was a Sunday. If he had to leave (which he did because I tried compromising with Uncle Sam. Don’t bother trying to compromise with him–he’s very stubborn), I am glad he left on a Sunday. It was the start of a week, and as a church-going person, I am grateful for the graces at Mass every Sunday. It’s kind of like a celebration with God–we’ve made it through another week and are pepping up for another one.

But, Church alone with a toddler can be…well…an adventure. It’s much like a precarious game of dominoes: getting up on time so I can get ready on time. Get daughter up so I can get her ready on time. Get out of the house at a certain time so I can arrive on time, get a parking place on time, and get a seat on time. Mess even slightly with one of the dominoes, and the entire set comes crashing down. And that makes me mad.

But, this morning, our adventure took it’s own path, much to my chagrin. Everything in my power happened on time–the shower, the breakfast, the waking of daughter, the leaving…only to discover that some moron had siphoned my gas tank in the middle of the night. So, picture seven-months pregnant me, careening down the road on “Ten Miles Till Empty,” screaming a tirade of profanity-free comments to the thief. Needless to say, we did not make to Mass on time this morning.

Regardless, Elizabeth was mostly well-behaved. She got fussy a few times, but by the sermon, I was beginning to relax a little. Big Mistake. Never relax with a toddler. Especially at Mass. I let my guard down.

Elizabeth has a growing vocabulary. She is also clearly ready to be potty-trained. She started whispering to me, “Mommy. Stinkies.” I winced. Not now. I looked in her diaper. Thank you, Jesus. She was all clear. “You don’t have stinkies, Elizabeth.” Five minutes later again: “Mommy. Stinkies.” “No. You’re fine.”

Don’t ignore a toddler.

After several attempts at whispering to me about her nonexistent dirty pants, she finally lost it. Lifting up her full skirted dress, she pointed to her diaper, and yelled, “Mommy! Stinkies!” Everyone in a five-pew radius around us laughed. And you know what? So did I.

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